Peter groaned. His buttocks contracted and he arched his back, lifting
his pelvis off the bed in a futile attempt to reach Susana’s mouth,
hanging teasingly just a centimetre or so above the tip of his straining
cock. Her left hand circled the base of his tool, squeezing lightly in a
rhythm that matched the slow passage of her tongue in and out between
her parted lips.

There was a bead of wetness at the tip of his cock. Susana dipped and
gently licked it up, then dipped a little further and slid her lips down
over the silky-smooth head of his dick. It jerked as a spasm of sweet
frustration ran through him, and he tried again to force himself upwards
further into her mouth. But she rose with him, her lips tight behind the
roll of flesh at the head of his penis.

Inside her warm, wet mouth, her tongue tickled at the sensitive
underside of his glans and teased at the opening. He groaned again, and
she took brief pity on him, rolling forward on her knees and inching her
mouth down his tortured shaft until her lips touched her encircling
fingers.

Then she was rising away from him again, suction dragging the skin of
his cock upwards and her tongue stabbing at the fleshy channel on its
underside. He rose with her as far as he could, then dropped back to the
bed and his cock flopped against his belly as it slipped free of her
mouth. Susana laughed wickedly, rose up on her knees and arched her back
as she jutted her pubes towards him. “Want this?” she whispered, and
dropped her hand between her legs.

He watched, fascinated, straining at his bonds, as her fingers busied
themselves with her pussy, parting, stroking, rubbing, dipping deep into
her cunt and emerging shining with wetness. She leaned forward, brushed
his lips with her dripping fingers. The feel was slightly oily, the odor
slightly of mushrooms, and he parted his lips and sucked the juice from
first one finger and then another. Susana’s other hand trailed up the
inside of his thigh and wrapped itself around his prick, began to milk
it slowly. Peter’s consciousness split itself into two parts, half
centred on the fingers in his mouth, half contemplating the
still-mounting excitement in his groin as Susana tugged and squeezed his
throbbing erection.

Then the fingers in his mouth were forgotten, and he was suddenly
nothing more than a giant cock, aching with the anticipation of
impending orgasm. Dimly, through a red fog of passion, he heard Susana
muttering. “Come now,” she was saying. “Come. Come. Come now.”

_

It had been an amazing evening. Susana was in an astonishingly
provocative mood, teasing at every opportunity and keeping him in an
almost fearful state of sexual excitement. It began when she picked him
up from the office. “You drive,” she said, and waited for him to open
the passenger-side door for her. She was wearing the black
off-the-shoulder blouse she had on the night he first saw her, and she
tugged it lower as she settled into the seat beside him. He tore his
eyes from the smooth brown roundness of her shoulders, started the car
and swung out on to the highway.

Susana tiptoed her hand across the gap between the seats and squeezed
the inside of his thigh, then slipped it higher. She nudged lightly with
the back of her hand, turned it over and scratched gently at his fly.
“Naughty,” she said as his cock stirred and stiffened. She flattened her
hand against the front of his trousers, worked it down to cup his balls,
and squeezed softly. “You want to be sucked?” she asked. “You want me to
tie you up and suck all of the juice out of you?”

His swelling cock, bent almost double inside his pants, struggled to
find a way to stand erect. He dropped a hand from the wheel to his
crotch, eased her hand out of the way, and adjusted himself. Susana
laughed, put both her hands in her lap and sat demurely the rest of the
way to the restaurant.

Halfway through the meal she excused herself. “I have to mimi,” she
said, like a little girl. When she came back, she kissed him lightly on
the cheek, pressed something soft into his hand and closed his fingers
over it as she sat down. “Put that in your pocket,” she said, and
grinned. “Don’t wave it around.” He placed his hand in his lap, opened
his fingers, looked down at black lace. Her panties. Sweating, he balled
the flimsy fabric and stuffed it in his pocket.

Later, when it was his turn to visit the loo, he locked himself in a
stall and pulled the lacy garment from his pocket. “This is crazy,” he
thought, the blood pounding in his temples and his chest tight with a
hot, stuffy feeling he had not had since he lost his virginity to his
eighth-grade English teacher. “I must be going out of my mind.” But he
held the panties to his nose and sniffed. Susana’s perfume, and a
lingering musky scent that certainly wasn’t perfume but just as
certainly WAS Susana, flooded into his nostrils and imprinted themselves
on his brain. Quickly, guiltily, he stuffed the panties back in his
pocket, then remembered that he was supposed to be taking a leak. He
unzipped his fly, found that taking a leak wasn’t easy with half an
erection, and had to wait until it subsided. His face was still flushed
when he got back to the table, and Susana leered knowingly at him. She
leaned across the table, caressed the back of his hand with a fingertip,
mouthed a silent message at him: “Want to be sucked?”

As he drove them back to his flat, she hitched her skirt up, spread her
legs and half-reclined her seat. She took his left hand off the wheel
and placed it between her legs. The inside of her thighs was smooth,
cool, dry, but higher up there was warmth and wetness. She held his
fingers, guiding them up and down the slippery canyon of her crack,
pressing down on the back of his hand to force his middle finger deep
inside her sopping cunt. When he decided he needed his hand for the
business of driving, she reluctantly let it go. “I’ll fix you later,”
she said.

She did, too. When they got to the flat she reached in the back seat,
took out a plastic supermarket bag and followed him inside. There were
no preliminaries, no pause for a drink. She came straight at him,
ripping open his shirt and peeling it from his back, tearing at his
belt. Peter barely had time to kick off his shoes before his trousers
were down around his ankles and her teeth were nipping at the bulge in
his underpants. He raised her to her feet, tried to kiss her, but she
was having none of that. “Get on the bed,” she husked.

As he flopped back on the covers she picked up the plastic bag, poured
its contents out on the floor. There were four wide leather watchbands,
four elastic shock-cord “tie-downs”. Swiftly, stepping purposefully from
one side of the bed to the other, she strapped a band around each of his
wrists, then each of his ankles, slipped one end of a cord through each
of the bands, and tied them off. His rising excitement formed a
quivering pyramid in the front of his pants as she passed the other end
of the cord on his left ankle around the leg of the bed, pulled it tight
and hooked it back on itself. Then his right leg, his right arm, and
back around the bed to his left arm.

Peter flexed his muscles, testing the strength of his bonds. None of
them gave by more than a few centimetres. He was helpless, but there was
no fear, only a burning anticipation as he imagined her pulling down the
front of his pants and gobbling his prick. Susana picked his trousers
off the floor, reached in the pocket and pulled out her panties. She
clambered on to the bed, straddled his belly, and gagged him with the
fragrant black lace, tying it tightly behind his head. The textured
fabric slipped between his parted teeth, pulled at the corners of his
mouth and pressed against his tongue. This was a refinement that he
hadn’t imagined, and he tried, too late, to protest.

Susana ignored his muffled noises. She grabbed him by the hair, pulled
his head forward and jammed two pillows behind it, then levered herself
off his body and got off the bed. She ran a hand up the inside of his
right thigh and flicked at his tented erection. “I’ll fix you now,
prick,” she said. Peter jerked with shock as she rummaged in her
handbag, came up with a wicked-looking vegetable knife, and grinned
evilly at him as she tested its sharpness with her thumb.

Suddenly less sure of the way things were going, Peter struggled with
his bonds. The shock cord gave a little, not enough. “Crazy bitch,” he
thought, then, almost desperately, “Just how crazy IS she?” His balls
contracted and his erection collapsed. Susana gripped the knife between
her teeth, stripped off her skirt and blouse and clambered, naked, up
the foot of the bed to kneel between his outspread legs. Slowly,
thoughtfully, she trailed the point of the knife up the inside of his
left thigh, over his tightly contracted testicles and limp dick, and up
his belly to just below his breastbone. She reached out with her left
hand, plucked at a hair beside his right nipple, and sliced it off.

Peter was frozen with indecision. Really, just how crazy WAS she? Susana
was feeding on his fear. She grinned again, wet her lips with her
tongue. “Time to be fixed,” she said, and trailed the knife back again
to the top of his left thigh. Her left hand brushed between his legs,
just below his balls. Then, so quickly he had no time to think what she
was doing, she hooked two fingers through the right leg of his
underpants to the waistband, pulled the bunched fabric towards her, and
slit it through, then did the same on the other side. She tossed the
knife off the bed, turned down the front flap of his ruined pants and
lowered her head to the tiny, quivering heap of his frightened penis.

Peter closed his eyes in sudden relief, and moaned as she slurped his
limp prick into her mouth and began busily massaging it with her lips
and tongue. It responded instantly, swelling, straightening, lengthening
inside her mouth until it was fully erect. He grew still harder watching
and feeling the glistening wet shaft sliding deep into her mouth, then
re-appearing for almost its whole length as she dipped and rose in
precise time with his labored breathing.

Soon, too soon, he was gasping through the gag in his mouth and grinding
his hips upwards as her head descended, in an effort to bury his cock up
to the hilt in her mouth. She stopped, raised her head and smiled wetly
at him. Then she rose up on her knees, reached forward and undid the
gag. “Crazy bitch,” he said. “Fuck you,” she said, and kissed him.

She clambered over his legs, sat on his chest, her feet on either side
of his head. She leaned back, took her weight on her hands, and thrust
her cunt at his mouth. “Eat me,” she said. Peter lapped hungrily at her
dripping slit, driving his tongue deep inside and savoring the musky
odor that he remembered so well from his shameful session in the loo
with her panties. Susana closed her eyes in ecstasy, pulled away from
him as the shuddering began. She sat up, dragged one of the pillows from
behind his head, stood, turned, and squatted over his face.

As she lowered herself once more to meet his ministering tongue, she
leaned forward and regained possession of his cock. Once again, it sank
deep into her mouth. Once again, it took on a life of its own, swelling
and stiffening as she sucked and dived, sucked and dived, each change of
direction accompanied by a soft, wet slurping sound. She began a rolling
motion with her hips, pressing her cunt back against his probing tongue.
Then she stopped, his cock half in and half out of her mouth, and the
shuddering began again. She whimpered, and Peter redoubled the intensity
of his licking.

The shuddering increased and she half pulled away from his mouth, then
pressed back against it. Suddenly she squealed, and Peter was laughing
and fighting for breath at the same time as her vaginal muscles
contracted in orgasm and flooded his mouth and nose with a mixture of
her juices and his own saliva. Four more contractions, and she rolled
off him, turned and took his dripping face in her hands. “Sorry,” she
whispered. He laughed again. “No problem,” he said. “Come anytime.”

“Prick,” she said, and kissed him, then wriggled down the bed and knelt
again between his legs.

_

“Come. Come now,” she said again, and Peter was jerked back from his
reverie of the evening so far. He was vaguely aware that both her hands
now were working away at him, one holding the tip of his cock the way
you pick up a chess piece, the other pumping, pumping away relentlessly
at his twitching shaft. “Mouth,” he gasped. “Your mouth. SUCK ME!” She
shook her head. “Later,” she said, and stepped up the speed of her
pumping. “Come now.”

Peter pulled at the cords holding his arms to the head of the bed on
either side, but as big and strong as he was he could neither break them
nor pull free of the bands around his wrists. He slumped his shoulders
back on the bed, began to writhe his hips in time to the rhythm of her
hand racing up and down, up and down the straining pole that had become
the whole focus of his existence. Lights danced in front of his eyes and
he shook his head violently as the first wave of orgasm crashed through
his frame.

Susana gripped him tighter, pumped faster. She took the hand away from
the head of his cock, pressed again behind his balls, and relaxed her
grip on his shaft. Peter screamed softly as the dammed-up essence jetted
up the length of his cock, spurted through the air and splashed over his
chest. Susana squeezed again, pumped, released and there was another
surge of sperm over his belly. His cock jerked, twitched as spasm after
spasm ran through him. His juice poured out of him in a series of short,
agonising spurts and his whole body shook and twisted with each fresh
contraction. Then it was finished, and he lay perfectly still, exhausted
and feeling slightly ridiculous.

Susana snickered, flicked again at his softening tool. “What happened?”
she said, her eyes wide with pretended wonder. She traced a pattern in
the wetness on his belly, reached out and picked a gob of sperm from
among the hairs on his chest, made a show of slurping it off her
fingers. A last dribble slipped out of the end of his cock and she bent
her head to it. Peter winced as she took the super-sensitive tip in her
mouth and sucked him dry. She nuzzled his belly, cleaning him up with
her tongue. Her lips glistened as she raised her head to look at him,
and her eyes sparkled with the knowledge of the happiness she had just
bestowed on him.

She placed a hand on either side of his chest, wormed her way up his
body, and kissed him deeply. Her breath was sweet, her lips and tongue
were salty, and Peter was surprised to discover that he tasted strongly
of the garlic prawns they had had for dinner.